


ATOTC Drabbles

by Starry_Neko_Maid



Category: A Tale of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
Genre: AUs, Angst, Character Death, Multi, Possible OOCness, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 10:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4097521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starry_Neko_Maid/pseuds/Starry_Neko_Maid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if there's more than just the regular English-French life that these characters live? Maybe we can explore some of their different adventures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alternate Scene

**Author's Note:**

> A Tale of Two Cities needs more works tbh, so here's something to cure that! There will be insertion of personal OCs, but they only help the plot and all. NO ROMANCE BETWEEN MY OCs AND THE ORIGINAL CHARACTERS. Chapters will vary: Unrequited to NSFW. Also, more tags to be added.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if Carton did something else while he was in Darnay's cell? After switching their clothes, the jackal reveals something that probably might throw people off. It's something that no one expects Carton to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ATOTC needs more works. I am also trash that ships the two look-alikes.... *throws drabble at you* Enjoy.

**Charles stares at his look-alike with wide, dark green eyes. "What did you say?" he whispers, afraid that someone might overhear them.  
  
Sydney only smiles sadly, kneeling in front of the golden brunette. “I love you,” he repeats, placing a kiss on Darnay's cheek. “It's ok that you don’t return the feeling." His lighter green eyes flickers, barely any spark in those hollow orbs. "Because I'm willing to go through with this promise I made."  
  
Charles gapes at the slightly blushing fiery brunette. "Wait, promise? What promise? You never told me anything about a promise!" The younger man needs to know about it, because there's that familiar feeling in his stomach. A feeling that he had not felt for ages, the same feeling that predicted his mother's death.  
  
Sydney only chuckles. "Ask your wife about it Charles." He brings the cloth filled with the chemicals he bought to the married man's mouth.  
  
Said man widens his eyes, immediately moving away when he saw the cloth. "Wait, Carton. We can talk about this!" Please don't tell him that this man who became a close friend will die for him. He doesn't want any more people dying because of _him_.  
  
The detective shakes his head, standing up. "No, we can't. I made a promise, and I'm not planning to break it."**

**Sydney takes a step forward, while Charles takes a step back. The golden brunette doesn't want to go through this plan his look-alike sorted. He now wishes that his father and uncle never did their sins, because this ending is utterly unacceptable.**

**"We ca-" The cloth smells sweet, but it's artificial as Charles gasps in the scent. He felt his eyelids slowly closing, his body heavy. "C-Cart-"  
  
The reddish-brunette smiles sadly. "Sydney, Charles. My name is Sydney."  
  
Then Darnay's body falls, but the look-alike was able to catch the drugged man. Barsad (honestly, this man needed to fix up his life) peeks in. "You done in there jackal?"  
  
Said man sighs, carrying the married man's body and placing him in the spy's arms. "Yes, and quickly go."  
  
John moves to go, but hesitates. He turns his head to look at the detective. "You sure you want to do this?"   
  
Light green eyes dull as he nods. "I am a man who keeps his word Barsad. Now go."  
  
The man nods, quickly moving out of the prison. Sydney scratches the back of his head as he moves back into Darnay's cell. Ah, he wonders if that kiss was appropriate. Shrugging, he moves towards the single cell window. He smiles. "Love him for me Ms. Lucie."**


	2. Moulin Rouge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles doesn't want his 'Satine' to go to this vile woman. She doesn't deserve to have Sydney, because she only wanted him for his looks.... Okay, he did too, BUT he came to love all of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought what if this were to happen. Lucie would have fit Satine better, and Mr. Stryver would be the Duke instead of Sydney. But honestly, I don't care. Sydney needs more love and needs to be protected at all costs. He deserves a happy ending. I actually do like Lucie btw, but it would be kind of interesting if she wasn't the golden thread. It's short, but YKNOW.

**He grabbed the pale wrist before his look-alike could even go down the hall. Those light mossy eyes made his throat dry, his heart beat faster. He swallows, voice shaky yet strong.**

**"I don't want you to go to her," he said.**

**Sydney pressed his lips together, parting them before he pressed them against the Frenchman's temple. "I know.... But it's for the sake of Moulin Rouge...." His feelings were conflicted: the fiery brunette really didn't want to, but if it's for the sake of reaching his dream.... He shook his head. Sweet Jesus, did Darnay knew how many thoughts he occupied of his?  
  
"Please, one last night?" the golden brunette begged, gently bringing the green jewel of Moulin Rouge closer to him.**

**Charles just needed one, so he can leave his mark in the Englishman's mind. He wanted him to remember the sensation of his hands roaming his pale body, the sensation of being filled, the sensation of being kissed, the sensation of being worshipped... He was a selfish man, but dammit, it's Sydney Carton. Sydney Carton: a brunette with red curling highlights, a muscular body, pale skin, light mossy eyes, and a beautiful voice of song.  
  
He didn't have to wait for answer as the male nodded his head eagerly, pulling him to their shared bedroom. They sank into bed as they kissed heatedly, throwing off clothing to God knows where. Everything's hot, everything's melting.... And that's how Charles liked it.   
  
They had slow, loving sex. They each cherished every kiss, every mark that can be concealed, every shock of pleasure, every thrust, and the orgasm that shook them to the core. Everything felt fuzzy, warm, and pleasing. Whenever they had sex, the result was always beyond satisfying, but this one held more significance than their other nights.  
  
When morning came, Charles saw the sad sight of his lover dressing up. He wanted to see him in bed with him still, seeing the sleepy smile and soft call of his name was always a sight he loved. But now, he had to let his lover go to the wretched Lady Lucie of Beauvais.  
  
The fiery brunette turned around once he buckled his belt. He padded to the bed, kissing the golden brunette one last time before he had to go. "Je t'aime Charles," he whispered.  
  
"I love you too, Sydney...." he whispered back, sharing one last chaste kiss before his lover had to go.**


	3. Tango to What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles stayed after school, and was planning to go back home until he heard an alluring voice. He needed to know who was singing that familiar tune, and he wasn't expect this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sydney being a chorale member and being able to hit soprano notes is life. Like, he's super talented, but he's a lazy butt. Sigh, what did Melbourne deserve to do this?

Charles expected someone else singing that solo, someone like Lucie, not Sydney Carton.

He heard a sweet melody, but no words, just voice ranges. Tango to Evora was a song he was familiar with, the solo mainly going to a woman. The other women would sing a rhythm of "la's", while the men would sing something that sounded like a "dum".

When he heard the voice as he was walking through the halls of the school, he immediately halted, turning his head to and fro to locate the sound. It sounded melodic, a hint of seduction in the tone. He had to to find this siren, and it took him a couple turns and wrong doors to reach the source. There was also a piano accompaniment, which was strange, because the only instruments in Tango to Evora were cymbals, hands, and possibly a violin or two. Before he could touch the doorknob, he heard harsh coughing and a few profanities as the piano ceased its sound.

He hesitated to open the door, but he wanted -needed- to know this mysterious siren. Hand on the knob, the Frenchman opened the door a tad to see a familiar brunette and a not so familiar redhead.

"Sydney, did you drink something caffeinated again before coming here?" the tall redhead asked with a harsh glare.

Another cough from the brunette confirmed this. " _N-no_?"

Another coughing fit ensued, and the redhead shook his head.

"I told you before, and I'll say it again. One, don't drink _or_ eat diary that has a high fat content. Two, eat a banana _before_ the concert. Three, drink _water_. Four, _no_ caffeinated beverages. Five, practice _early_ in the morning," the seemingly older male listed with a sigh.

"I know, I know, _I know_. You have-" Cough. "Said it a million times Melbourne! I don't need you and Stryver reminding me every time!" Sydney rushed to his bag to grab a water bottle, gulping large amounts of the clear liquid.

Said male pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "Apparently, you keep forgetting. You have followed every rule _but_ the caffeinated one." He shifted some music sheets around. "Also, you are not reaching the right pitch for some notes."

The brunette scowled, throwing an old plastic water bottle at him. Charles snickered.

"Fuck this." The Englishman grabbed his stuff and marched toward the door. "Find somebody _else_ to sing this stupid solo."

Oops, forgot to move away from the door, because now the two males were staring at him in shock.

"Um..." The Frenchman awkwardly waved. "Hi?"

Sydney immediately scowled again, grabbing the golden brunette by the collar to pull him closer. "What the hell were you doing there Darnay?" he growled, clearly pissed and embarrassed.

Huh, how should he explain it? "Um... You have a beautiful voice?" Unfortunately, that earned him a spot on the ground and costed his only means of escape.

"That's not an answer you bastard," the fiery brunette hissed, locking the door.

"Oi, Sydney, is that how you treat an audience member?"

Both looked up at the redhead sitting at the piano. Said male scoffed at the idea of Charles being an audience member.

"He's no bloody audience member Mel. Besides, I'm not singing that damn solo." He was about to leave the room.....

..... But Darnay's comment prevented him from doing so. "But you sounded very beautiful Carton. I was kind of sad when you stopped."

Melbourne snickered. "Hey, he could be your motivation and support for this performance."

It was suppose to be a joke, but the throw of a glass bottle was a sign that his friend didn't think so. Thankfully, he caught the glass before it shattered against a surface.

" _ **Fuck you both!**_ " Sydney cried out, red painting his cheeks.

The redhead made an odd face. "That's..... Odd coming from you. You usually fuck one person....." He glanced at the golden brunette before looking at the fiery one. "Not two people at the same time....."

The junior's face paled at that comment and somehow also turned a bit red. "Oh my _god_! Damn you Melbourne! That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

Said male laughed as the Englishman continued to throw some random stuff in his bag. When he ran out of stuff, he cursed the two for being assholes and left with two middle fingers in the air. The air was awkward with just the Frenchman and this mysterious male. Charles looked at the redhead and opened his mouth, but the older-looking male held his hand up.

"Melbourne Wicker. I was Sydney's host when he did the exchange student program for Australia," he explained as he gathered the sheets from piano into a neat pile. "I came here to England for the Tellson's Spring Concert, specifically by Sydney's request." He placed the pile in a folder and placed the folder into his bag. "It seems that I am the only pianist that Sydney was comfortable playing with."

He picked up his bag to stand up and stare down the sitting golden brunette. He offered a hand, and the Frenchman took it. "Anyways, please come to the concert with some friends and family if you are able." He walked to the open door before turning to look at him one last time. "I believe Sydney would be ecstatic if you come. But I warn you, if you dare hurt him in any way." His grey eyes harden into a glare. "You _will_ be hearing from me."

 **  
**And he left, leaving Charles to stare at the door.


	4. Drowning Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carton needed something to help him drown, drown out everything bad in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I had to. If Sydney is a detective, he would fit right in the Ace Attorney Fandom, with some tweaking of course. I had to add Lucie and Charles too, since they ARE a part of his life.

 

The burn in the back of his throat seems so familiar, but it's been too long since he had a strong drink like this. He slams the bottle down, coughing into his hand. The seamstress-bartender stares at him warily.

"Sir, I can give you something weaker," she offers, but he waves dismissively.

"No, no... S'fine...." Cough "It's just been a while," he mutters, clearing his throat.

She nods. "Well, just call me over if you need anything." And then she goes to the other side of the bar to take another patron's order

He just only takes another swig from the bottle, scowling when he puts it down. He could _never_ hate Defense Attorney Manette, but he can with Prosecutor Darnay. He doesn't understand why it's always the prosecutors and defense attorneys that get together. Why not detectives? They deserve some credit _too_ , because they have to _find_  the evidence _and_ work with it. All the attorneys and prosecutors do is present it.

He works _way_ beyond midnight, something Ms. Skye would scold him about, but he doesn't care. He knew he did something like this in a past life, so he doesn't bother changing his habits. Sure, it's concerning when he falls asleep in the lab, but that's because he's _dedicated_ to his job. Mr. Fulbright and Mr. Gumshoe always gave him an earful about his sleeping habits, but he doesn't give a flying fuck. Also, he still wouldn't listen to Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth, Chief Defense Attorney Wright, Prosecutor Gavin, Defense Attorney Justice, Prosecutor Blackquill, and Defense Attorney Cykes about his lifestyle. He's 28 for crying out loud, he can make his own decisions. Why does everyone have to stick their nose in his business?

He takes a long gulp of the alcohol, slowly feeling it take over his system. He rubs his eyes, feeling the tears forming in his eyes. He understands that they care, but he's afraid. He's afraid of them pushing him away if they delve deeper in his problems. Mr. Stryver tried, and it only ended in shambles. He's not fixable, and he accepts it. His alcoholic problem began when he was small, where he illegally drank the bottles due to him wanting to drown out his depression. He had pills, but he needed to pay the landlady to only give him one, because he knew he might overdose one day. There's a fear of being abandoned, so he doesn't bother trying to bond with other people.

_"Hello, my name is Lucie Manette. I'm the new defense attorney of Wright Anything Agency. You are?"_

Ms. Manette only bothered to introduce herself, because Ms. Cykes sent her there to pick up some files.

_He looks at her disinterestedly. "Sydney Carton. Detective." He rolls in the wheeled-chair, grabbing a file off the island table and holds it out to the blonde. "Ms. Cykes requested these."_

_She takes it with a smile and a thank you. "I hope we can see each other again."_

He thinks he made some kind of acknowledging sound, but this memory still made him smile.

_"Afternoon sir, my name is Charles Darnay, prosecutor-in-training."_

That French voice made him scowl. Something about that look-alike brunette says fop.

_"Prosecutor Gavin said he needed the autopsy of the victim in Case 238-S3Y1."_

Everything about him says he's well-off, unlike **him**.

_"Mrs. Defarge, shot in the head with a pistol," he read as he hands the man the file._

_"Oh...." Dark mossy eyes light up._

_"What?" He stares at the prosecutor with irritation. "I checked the name."_

_"No, it's just that...." The brunette with wavy golden highlights leans against the doorway with an awe-like grin. "We look kind of similar, don't you think?"_

**  
He doesn't want to be compared to anybody, especially that Darnay. He's everything Sydney could have been if he just didn't have all these problems.**


	5. Rehearsal Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sydney hates the student-teacher with a passion. Why did they even hire this demon?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, time for some comedy. Pre-Boarding School AU, where the concert is nearing and the choir needs to practice. Shenanigans ensue.

" **GET THAT GODFORSAKEN THING AWAY FROM ME!** "

" ** _NEVER_!!!** "

That's what Charles, Lucie, Mr. Lorry, Dr. Manette, and Miss Pross heard before they entered the theatre. They didn't expect to see a blue-haired person chasing after a screaming Sydney Carton with a sloshing bucket of something over their head. Definitely not what they expected.

"Those two are quite... Lively don't you think?" Mr. Lorry comments, pushing up his spectacles.

Another scream from the poor Carton, making Miss Pross create a pitying face. "Poor dear, his classmates treating him like that," she comments, hand over her mouth.

"Um, the blue-haired person doesn't go to our school," Lucie points out, curling a finger in her blonde locks.

"Really now?" Mr. Lorry rubs his chin. "Then why are they here?"

" **GET AWAY FROM ME YOU _DEMON_!** " the fiery brunette screeches, jumping over some seats.

" **I'M NO DEMON!** " Angel runs down the aisles, leaving a trail of ice cubes and water. " **JUST GET THIS CHALLENGE OVER WITH YOU CHICKEN!** "

" **I'M NO CHICKEN!** "

" **THEN DO THE ICE BUCKET CHALLENGE!** "

" ** _HELL NO!_** "

" _Mon dieu_ , is this how your rehearsals go petite fleur?" Dr. Manette questions, feeling a headache form.

" _Non_ papa, Angel's just..... Helping....." Lucie replies, rubbing the back of her neck.

" **COULD ONE OF YOU PEOPLE _HELP_ ME!? I'M GONNA _DIE_ HERE!** " Sydney screams, yelping when he tumbled down the steps before quickly getting back up.

" **YOU'RE NOT GONNA DIE FROM A LITTLE WATER AND ICE!** " Angel retorts.

" **I'LL DIE FROM HYPOTHERMIA ASSHOLE!** "

The chorale group screams when the brunette and the blunette went on stage, moving away to not get wet.

" **NOT THE INSTRUMENTS PLEASE!!!!!** " someone yells when the duo disappeared behind the curtain.

"Wow..." is the only response from Charles. Then he sees another bucket hiding behind a potted plant, so he decides to inspect it. The bucket is filled to the brim with water and ice, so he decides to check the temperature of it by putting his hand in. Immediately retracting his hand when he touched the water, a wicked idea forms in the golden brunette's mind. He picks the metal bucket up, trying to put it over his head.

Mr. Lorry notices what he was doing. "What are you doing Charles?" he asks, a questioning look on his face.

Said man grins. "You'll see."

Lucie quickly catches on, frowning. "Please tell me you're not...."

" **OH MY GOD YOU ARE _FUCKING_ CRAZY!!!** " Sydney jumps down from the stage, landing on his feet before falling onto his bottom. " _Dammit_ ," he hisses, quickly getting up.

Angel, on the other hand, runs down the side stairs to continue the chase. " **I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU MILK CARTON!!!** "

"Goodness gracious, to think they are teenagers..." Miss Pross mutters. She looks around with a confused look on her face. "Where's Charles?"

Before anyone could turn their heads, a scream tore through the theatre.

" **DARNAY YOU GODDAMN _BASTARD_!!! FUCK YOU, YOU LITTLE SHIT!! I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY _FRIEND_ ASSHOLE!!!! TRAITOR, FUCKING _TRAITOR_!!!** "

Laughter is then heard. "ALL IS FUN AND GAMES MY FRIEND!"

The crowd sees Sydney running down the middle aisle, Angel running down the left, and Charles running down the right. When the fiery brunette reaches the front of the stage, he looks frantic, trying to find a way out from the bucket wielders. Before he could even jump on the stage, he's bombarded by icy, freezing water on both sides. The volume and pitch of Sydney's scream made everyone flinch, surprised he can reach such a range.

Laughter joins the mix of surprise and terror as the fiery brunette shivered violently as the ice and water pools around him. Charles and Angel high-five each other, enjoying their victory.

"Open the drains," Mr. Stryver orders in the mic, a smile on his face.

" _Mon dieu_ , Sydney, are you alright?" Lucie asks, a towel in her hand when she approached the pissed brunette.

" _N-N-N-N-N-No_...... I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I'm _n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-no-no-no-not_ f-f-f-f-f-fi-fi-fi-fi-fi-fi-fi-fin-fine!" he stutters, weakly glaring at his grinning assailants, who were standing next to each other with an arm around each other's necks. He takes the towel gratefully, wiping his face first before he attempts to dry-towel his hair.

The blonde then turns to the bucket duo, clicking her tongue. " _Tut, tut, tut_ you two. That was not very nice," she scolds them.

"Well, I wasn't going to give him coffee mixed with Monster energy drink. How else do you help wake somebody up?" Angel retorts, hand on hip. " _Besides_ , now we know how far his voice can go." He dodges the wet towel.

"And Charles, why?" she asks, not really knowing how to scold him.

Said male shrugs. "It looked fun."

The blonde had a look of disbelief on her face. "But still, not very nice."

"Well, at least those weren't his concert clothes," Angel notes.


End file.
